Power to the People and the Beats

Def Jam;
2005

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There's something almost inherently wrong with learning hip-hop history rather than living through it. Like most youthful rap
devotees, I'm a hyper-cognizant, Mix Hut-hoarding zombie, searching out the newest chipmunk loop or broken drum break, learning
as I go, collecting knowledge, filing production credits on the regular. But perspective is missing from most young-folk rap
criticism today. When forced to research, say, UTFO, Audio Two, or other bygone pillars, it can be difficult to stay focused.
The productions can be creaky or the vocals poorly mixed. There are titans (Marley Marl and Paul C. come to mind), but mostly
everyone is feeling the sounds out, and adapting to new technology, budgets, etc.

We're in the midst of a pop progressives era, thanks to the likes of Just Blaze, Dr. Dre, Pharrell, and Timbaland-- mainstream men
literally pushing harder than the next to find the most curious, throttling sounds to ground a pop record. Right now, someone like
Grandmaster Flash, while noble and significant, sounds staid. Public Enemy remain one of the few acts that can stand up to the
sonic innovations of those dudes-- and in most cases still eclipse them. When I first started devouring the P.E. canon, it was
emotional to discover something from their day that sounded like 2077 A.D. The shit still can't be touched.

Still, there's really no sense in compiling a Public Enemy greatest hits. They are a classic "albums" band, full of songs that
crash into each other with force, amelodic glory spilling into James Brown's chopped-up yelps and shouts. It was done once before
with 2001's pitiful Universal Masters Collection, a poorly constructed quickie cash-in. If you're serious about 20th century
music, P.E.'s first four albums are essential. Yo! Bumrush the Show, It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back,
Fear of a Black Planet, and (to a lesser extent) Apocalypse 91... The Enemy Strikes Black are all sweltering documents
of a furiously exciting period. Culling the bulk of its content from those albums, Power to the People and the Beats doesn't
offer much unity; rather, it skips chronologically from one chest-thumper to the next. In particular, Nation of Millions and
Black Planet, the band's most revered works, get mined for 10 of the collection's 18 tracks.

Things jump off with their all-business 1982 fight song "Public Enemy No. 1", a track that spurred then-short-bearded buddy Rick
Rubin to encourage Chuck D and the newly formed P.E. to pursue a career and sign to Def Jam. Chuck, then 22 and working at Adelphi
University's WBAU, initially thought he was too old for the rap game and resisted Rubin's nudging-- luckily, Rubin eventually broke
him down. Cobbled-together compilations that utilize the chronological movement usually make sense as a means of understanding an
artist's progression, but as a unit, P.E. were so scintillating and fully realized on "Public Enemy No.1"-- all buzzing squirt
synths and defiant Carlton Ridenhour braggadocio-- that to end on 1998's mildly received soundtrack cut "He Got Game" is deflating
and marks a less-than-subtle regression.

But fear not, from "Rebel Without a Pause" to "Fight the Power" (still the angriest pop song of all time) to the underrated MLK Day
screed "By the Time I Get to Arizona", Power to the People and the Beats doesn't miss a hit. The gang's all here, too:
Flavor Flav, rap's first necessary hypeman; the Bomb Squad, whose avant-garde sample-and-smash productions are still ahead of their
time; DJ par excellence Terminator X; and Professor Griff's misguided proselytizing. The construction of the group-- not just
musically, but in presentation-- was so dynamic and original that it's impossible replicate in print. Just watch the "Fight the
Power" video. It's still easy to visualize foot soldiers, the S1Ws, marching along to "Welcome to the Terrordome"'s walloping snare.

Of all the commercially viable and artfully innovative groups of the 1980s, not one is fucking with Public Enemy. Chuck brought a
political conscience that spoke mostly out of anger and disenfranchisement ("I like Nike, but wait a minute.../ The neighborhoods
are poor, so put some money in it"), and his baritone could flow for days. Flav, a media clown nowadays, is well-represented with
"911 Is a Joke" and "Can't Do Nuttin' for Ya Man". During this period, Flav was funny but never obsequious, so his spiral into
VH1dom is saddening. Terminator X remains a singularly important DJ, unafraid to frighten an audience with thrash and bombast, but
also fully aware of how tunefulness lay at the heart of any crowd-mover. The Shocklee Brothers (along with a young Easy Mo Bee,
Gary G-Wiz, Eric Sadler, Sleek, and Panic) delivered a new style of music production, chopping loops and samples so harshly and
precisely that each track bangs like an elephant stampede. Only the late-era "Give It Up" has any sort of sing-along tunefulness
here.

There are a few minor omissions and fumbles. We're without the ill-advised Anthrax misstep "Bring the Noize", rap-rock before we all
hated rap-rock. Early jams like "My Uzi Weighs a Ton" and "Louder Than a Bomb" are omitted to make room for the more obscure "Hazy
Shade of Criminal". That track is the lone Greatest Misses representative here, but though intriguing for its martial anarchy,
it's hardly vital to their oeuvre. Otherwise, Power to the People's tracklist is essentially bulletproof, with latter-day
releases like 2003's Revolverlution wisely excluded. In fact, my only personal gripe is the absence of Pete Rock's remix
for "Shut 'em Down", arguably the finest argument for hip-hop remixes ever.

There's been something of a Public Enemy revival of late. In addition to this collection, a live DVD, It Takes a Nation: The
First London Invasion Tour 1987, was released in May. Another as-yet-untitled LP is due this fall. (Rebirth of a Nation
has been delayed until sometime next year.) Chuck D likewise remains a vocal presence in politics and technology (he was one of the
original advocates of filesharing), if no longer a rapper's delight. It's nice that there's a minor resurgence, as it's likely to
turn a new generation onto such pioneers, but it makes me yearn for the real thing. Which, of course, I didn't even grow up with.